


Windstorms and Wishes

by tariana



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, First Kiss, Fluff, Hogwarts Eighth Year, M/M, Snow, Winter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-29
Updated: 2018-06-29
Packaged: 2019-05-30 03:27:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15087986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tariana/pseuds/tariana
Summary: 8th year Draco is pretty miserable.





	Windstorms and Wishes

It was cold. It was windy. It was miserable weather.

Draco doubted that the North Pole could be any colder than this lonely landscape that surrounded the castle.

It was blessed solitude. It was peace rather than loneliness. If he wouldn't have frozen to death, Draco might have been content to stay here, sitting outside by the Hogwarts lake all night. At least out here there were no whispered (but not exactly quiet) comments, no one staring, no open hostility from the other students.

There was just Draco and the snow and the silvery ice on the frozen lake.

He'd known this year would be difficult -- as one of the only Slytherins to return to Hogwarts for this eighth year of school, and as almost certainly the most notorious, he'd had to assume things would be difficult. He'd been greatly humbled by the events of the last few years, and had come back to Hogwarts with much less attitude and ego than before. He'd also assumed wrongly that once everyone settled in and as long as he kept his head down, he would be allowed to quietly finish his education.

Not so. He was forever bruised and battered, as some of the Hufflepuffs (of all people) in his year had seemed to make it their personal mission to find at least three ways to hurt or humiliate him every day. Transfiguring his schoolbooks into toads, casting various hexes that gave him extra ears or made his feet grow to three times their normal size or a hundred other trivial but painful things, and when that failed to get a reaction from him, they resorted to physical violence. He'd lost count of how many  
times they'd broken his nose and fingers, how many times he'd been tripped, kicked and punched.

Draco Malfoy had very little left -- the Ministry had seen to that in reparation for his father's crimes, and for his -- but he hadn't completely lost his pride. He never reacted to the bullies, just stood there and took whatever they gave, then quietly went to Madam Pomfrey to be patched up.

Now, on this quiet, cold afternoon, Draco sat, elbows on knees, chin in hands, staring out across the lake. It was nearly Christmas, and although he didn't imagine things would be terribly festive at home -- Lucius had forfeited the Manor to the Ministry along with most of their other possessions and he and Narcissa were currently renting a small flat -- at least at home he would be with those who loved him.

Suddenly, he heard the crunching of snow, and turned quickly, expecting one of his tormentors to have found him. Instead, he was greeted by the sight of bright green eyes behind snow-flecked spectacles. Harry Potter was as shabbily dressed as ever, in a hat that could best be described as atrocious, a knitted monstrosity of red and gold with a bobble on top. His unruly hair stuck out at all angles from underneath it, and his smile was genuine, if not terribly strong.

"Malfoy."

"Potter."

"What are you doing out here?" Harry asked.

"What does it look like I'm doing? I'm sitting here," Draco said, with a slight roll of his eyes. For the savior of the Wizarding world, Harry Potter really could be dense sometimes.

"Can I..." Harry trailed off as Draco gestured with one hand to the empty spot on the bench next to him. "Thanks."

Harry sat, and for a few moments they sat in silence, both staring out at the lake.

Things with Harry had been... well, odd, to say the least, since the beginning of the school year. Harry had actually spoken to Draco on quite a few occasions, small talk about the weather or classwork or other things. Draco wasn't sure what Harry was trying to accomplish with his friendliness, but frankly, there were very few people that were friendly to Draco, and he wasn't about to turn one away, even if it was his one-time enemy. He didn't suppose that perhaps you could call them friends exactly, but Draco actually enjoyed Harry's company, and Harry seemed to have a knack for finding Draco and interrupting him when he was trying to find a minute of solitude. Harry couldn't seem to leave him alone, but Draco supposed that perhaps that was exemplary of their entire relationship. Since first year, they had both gone out of their way to poke and prod the other into action, any action. That it had usually ended in anger, Draco regretted. He often wondered how different his life might have been -- and Harry's too -- if they had managed to become friends -- or at least not enemies. It couldn't be helped now, but it was nice that at least one person at Hogwarts didn't hate him. In fact, given a few more months, he thought that he and Harry might even be able to move on from not-quite-friends to actual friends.

Draco sometimes found himself watching Harry, in classes or in the Great Hall during meals. Harry seemed so much... lighter, as if a great weight had been lifted from him. He often seemed sad, though,which was an odd combination to Draco. He supposed Harry had lost a great many people he held dear in the war, and he did always take things too personally and seriously. Draco didn't always know exactly what caused it, but he knew he didn't like the clouded look in those expressive green eyes, or the unhappy tilt of that full mouth. Occasionally, Harry would catch him looking and hold his gaze, his eyes full of questions. Questions and something that, if Draco didn't know better, he would think was want.

But maybe Draco did know better, because Harry Potter could have anyone he wanted. Why would he choose Draco, with his past so dark and his future so uncertain? Draco tried to tell himself that his interest in Harry was just misplaced gratitude for Potter's kind treatment of him. It was getting more and more difficult to convince himself, however.

Saint Potter he wasn't, but he was a good person, a loyal friend, and Draco would only admit to himself, rather handsome in spite of the scar and the unruly hair and the spectacles – or perhaps even because of them, because they were part of what made him Harry Potter.

Having Harry Potter for his friend – the thing he had wished for all those years ago – was wonderful, but he wasn't too proud to admit (at least to himself, if never to anyone else) that he wished for more.

"So what's the injury count today?" Harry broke the silence to ask.

"Two broken fingers," Draco said, holding up his leather-gloved hand to show Potter he had already been healed. "MacMillan was sick today." He was the ringleader and without him, his other cronies weren't content to push Draco too far.

There was silence again for awhile, then --

"Those fuckers!" Harry grated out. “How can you just ignore them, day after day?”

“Not everyone has to rush headlong into confrontation, you know,” Draco said, with a small smile to let Harry know he was joking. “Although you seem to have a penchant for it.”

“I just can't stand it when people I --” Harry cut off his sentence abruptly.

“When people you what, Harry?” Draco said, noticing the blush that was creeping up Harry's face.

“When people I like are hurt,” Harry finished his sentence in a very small voice.

He looked up, and green eyes and grey eyes met and held. Harry's blush deepened but he didn't look away.

Suddenly there was much less space between them on the bench as Harry scooted closer and picked up Draco's hand, pulling Draco's glove off and studying his fingers.

“These?” he asked, touching the fingers in question lightly. Madam Pomfrey was very nearly a genius, but there was nothing that could make recently-healed bones not sore, and Draco's fingers twinged even at Harry's light touch.

Draco nodded, unable to speak as Harry lifted his hand and gently pressed his lips to the injured fingers. Draco's heart gave a lurch, and suddenly there was a whole swarm of butterflies in the region of his stomach. During all of this, Harry held Draco's gaze.

Harry's eyes were really very green, Draco noticed, and his eyelashes were really very long, and his lips were really very, very soft as he kissed Draco carefully.

It began to snow again, but the two young men didn't notice for a long while. When they did, they walked back to the castle hand-in-hand.

Sometimes, Draco thought, wishing for things isn't so foolish after all.


End file.
